


The Coat and the Cab

by MistressPussyKat



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Richard Armitage - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Glamour Magazine, Making Out, NYC cab, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 06:24:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressPussyKat/pseuds/MistressPussyKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written in response to a request for a story inspired by the January 2013 Glamour Magazine photo shoot and article -- The Hottest Man on (Middle) Earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Coat and the Cab

Hailing a cab in NYC can be downright irritating. Especially when itʼs cold and getting dark. And when you seem to be invisible to them. Four empty cabs drove right by me, each one stopping to pick up a person standing a half a block away. At this rate, I wasnʼt ever going to get where I needed to be.

As the fifth cab in 15 minutes passes me by, I stamp my boot-clad foot in exasperation and pull my long coat closer about me. A rumbling chuckle resonates from behind me.

“They know youʼre not a native,” the crisp English accent admonishes, the words laced with barely-masked laughter.

“Oh, and you are?” I reply without turning, mustering as much sarcasm as I can. Still irked, and quite willing to take it out on this stranger, I glance over my shoulder to look at who is being so outright rude. I am surprised to see an extremely handsome man standing there smiling at me. Tall enough to have me tilt my head up to see his face. His hair is dark and his blue eyes are compelling, just hinting at mischief. His dark outﬁt is perfectly put together, from the black on black trousers and shirt, to the dark silver tie, to the faux fur trimmed collar of the dark gray overcoat. From the toes of his well cared-for shoes to the smile on his lips and in his eyes, the effect is minimal, but devastatingly sexy. My breathing hitches. I hope I’m not staring too noticeably.

“Iʼm Rich,” he introduces himself. “And no, Iʼm not native, but I have learned how to hail a cab as one.” Demonstrating his prowess, he steps into the street, whistles shrilly and up zooms a cab. Iʼm dumbfounded. He opens the door, displays a bit of a smirk and asks in his quietly deep voice, “Care to share a ride?”

“That was mighty impressive,” I grudgingly admit, “so, Iʼd be happy to share, if youʼre headed where I need to go.”

“Iʼd be happy to go wherever you want to go,” he replies, tilting his head to look more closely at me, the smirk turning into a smouldering smile. “I can be very ﬂexible.”

“Indeed. Accommodating, arenʼt you?”

“When needs must. Might I ask your name, lovely lady?”

“Portia,” I respond, “and I wouldnʼt describe me as lovely.” I hope Iʼm not making a big mistake. It doesn’t feel like I am. I flash him a tentative smile and say, “Well, then, letʼs go,” sliding into the back seat.

He slides in next to me, his intense gaze holding mine. “Oh,” he draws out the single syllable, “Iʼd beg to differ with you. Lovely definitely describes you. Tell me, where to, Portia?” The way he pronounces my name sends an involuntary shiver up my spine. It was almost a caress.

When I tell the driver the address, Richʼs eyes widen, as does his smile. “Well, then, isnʼt that coincidental?” he laughs. “My destination is just a block away from yours.”

“Iʼll bet,” I murmur under my breath, wondering what Iʼve let myself get into.

As I lean back against the seat, I feel Richʼs arm behind me. I turn toward him to suggest, with my best sarcasm, that he might want to put his arm elsewhere. I suddenly ﬁnd my lips just a hairʼs breadth from his. My eyes stare into his deep blue ones. And before I realize what Iʼm doing, of their own volition my lips close that tiny gap and kiss him, pressing hard against his. My ﬁngers are digging into the faux fur collar, holding on tightly.

His arms gently gather me to him, as he changes the angle of the kiss, taking it deeper, more familiar. His tongue lightly touches my lips, tracing them, asking entrance. My lips open slightly, then more, feeling the smoothness of his tongue glide against mine.

And then my arms are around his neck, pulling us closer still. The kiss goes deeper, a little sloppy, a lot passionate. Moans sound. His? Or mine?

He slowly spins the kiss out, keeping his arms around me, barely moving his mouth away from mine. The look in his eyes is pure and undiluted sex. I feel his lips curve into a devilish smile as he says just one word, “Breathe …”

As I take a breath, he plunders my mouth. No sweet or gentle kiss this. His arms pull me closer still. My ﬁngers thread through his hair, holding him near. His hands slide up my back to my shoulders, caressing them through my coat.

He pulls back slowly, as if reluctant to stop. His gaze never leaves mine as his ﬁngers undo the clasps on my coat. His hands reach under the coat, spreading warmth as his ﬁngers trail up my back to my neck.

My hands busily ﬁnd their way under his unbuttoned coat, up to his shoulders, digging in, holding on. 

“Your turn, Rich,” I gasp, “breathe …” My lips capture his in a frantic mating.

His hand presses against my nape as his other arm pulls me closer. Our mouths change angles, experimenting, making a habit of being messy.

I push away just for a moment, my mind shouting, “WOW!” Taking a deep breath, I smile at him, about to take another kissing plunge, when I realize that the cab isnʼt moving. I take stock of our surroundings. Weʼve arrived at my destination.

“Looks like itʼs time for this bird to ﬂy,” I say, breathing heavily, pulling away. A feeling of disappointment floods over me. I resist the urge to sigh.

I reach for my purse to pay my share, and he stops me.

“Allow me,” he says, voice gravelly sounding. “It’s getting dark. May I walk you to your door?”

As tempting as that sounds, my practical side tells me that I’ve tempted Fate far enough for one day. 

“I don’t think so, Rich,” I smile at him. “But, seriously, thank you.” 

“Might I have one more kiss, then?” he asks, an almost puppy-dog look crossing his face. 

Chuckling at the obvious manipulation, I agree.

His hands frame my face. His thumb caresses the underside of my jaw. His gaze captures mine, as he gently draws me to him. With a feather-light touch, his lips rub across mine. At the gentleness of the kiss, I feel myself sigh and my eyes close. He deepens the kiss, probing with his tongue, caressing my lips, nibbling the lower one. 

As he draws away, my eyes slowly open to his smouldering gaze.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice low and rumbling. His eyes tell me that the impact of the kiss has been felt by both of us.

“T-t-thank you,” I reply haltingly, trying to collect my wits that have been scattered. “I, ummmm, really should go. Now.”

He exits the cab, helps me out and onto the curb, and pulls me into another embrace. For a moment, I think maybe I should let him walk with me. It takes all my willpower to step back, smile at him, turn and walk away.

As I take several steps away from the cab, my mind is still reeling from the tumult of emotions triggered by this encounter. I absentmindedly reach in my pocket. I feel something that I know wasn’t there before. Pulling it free, I see his card, with his name and a phone number. Stopping, I glance back to where I’d last seen the cab.

Rich is standing there, an uncertain smile wafting over his lips. Watching me. Waiting. 

I turn to stare at him. Wondering. Hoping.

He opens his arms. “Portia,” he says quietly.

And with a cry of delight, I go running to him …


End file.
